


Fireworks Girl

by Riffler



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional and physical healing, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riffler/pseuds/Riffler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolverine returns to the mansion, with 14 year old Jubilee in tow. He is worn out, still healing from his run-in with the Reavers in Australia. Jubilee is happy to be with him but uncertain what these new surrounding mean for her and her relationship with Logan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place right after Uncanny X men issue #272.
> 
> Thank you to Aldebaran for her excellent beta work and patience with my impatience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jubilee made her way slowly along the side of the old, dilapidated barn, stepping carefully around its pitted stone silo, to the big front doors. Above her, the dark window of the hay-mow looked solemnly out at the grassy fields. She pressed a hand against the rough, bleached boards, feeling the afternoon's heat radiating against her palm. The door's latch, thick with decades of flaking rust, was hanging from two loose but stalwart screws that promised to fall out at the slightest touch. She pushed them gently back into place. 

She had spent this day, her first at Professor Xavier's school, wandering around the sprawling, seemingly endless grounds, checking out the many sheds and other assorted outbuildings on the property. 

She and Wolvie had arrived here late the night before, tired, hungry, grateful to be at their journey's end. In the rush of activity that followed, after they'd eaten a simple meal of warmed up leftovers, she'd been taken to her room, and it was then that he'd disappeared from her side. 

He hadn't shown up for breakfast. No one could remember seeing him since last night. And so, Jubilee had gone on the hunt, trying to discover his whereabouts. As the day progressed, hours slipping by with no luck at all, as she became hot and dirty and sweaty, and the unsettled atmosphere around this place became more and more oppressive, the purpose of her search had changed. She sought something different, now, something she needed just as much as she needed Wolvie.

This barn had to be the oldest building around here, she was sure. There was a much newer barn close to the school, freshly painted an arresting red with white trim, housing horses, a pair of black and white cows, even some chickens. What a ritzy place like this wanted with a bunch of smelly livestock, Jubilee didn’t know. The horses, though, she had to admit, were really cool.

But this place seemed to have been forgotten. By people, by time, looking as if it had been standing here for centuries, tucked away beyond the farthest lawns and paddocks, decrepit and lichen-scarred. The forest nearby had begun to advance upon it, gradually engulfing two of its walls with thin shrubs and wiry saplings that over the years crowded close, embracing the aged structure with leafy arms of wood and stem. The old building also sported a splendid mantle of vines, delicate morning glory and moonflower, with hardy ivy interlaced throughout the bright blooms, everything seemingly working together to support the old barn, and slow its gradual, inevitable fall to the earth. 

Its unpretentious, slouching stance was comforting to Jubilee’s eyes. 

The sun was low, hot against her back. Crickets had already begun their early evening chorus. There was no one around. No one had seen her. No one knew she was here. She eased the door open just enough to slip into the barn’s dim, cool interior. 

Dust motes drifted in beams of sunlight streaming between gap-tooth walls. Empty stalls marched in a double row away from her to the back of the barn, the final resting place for several pieces of rusting farm equipment. A few wilting hay bales were scattered here and there on the ground around her, sagging and loose, spilling their innards out onto the dirt floor. The hay-loft, far above, was stacked with many more bales, bales that glowed in the sun coming through the window beneath the peaked roof. Some were of a golden hue, others, olive-green. Those bales looked fresh, clean, and the smell they gave off was heavenly.

She eyed the loft with interest. She had to get up there. It was just what she'd been looking for. 

There was an enormous wooden ladder lying near the rusted machinery. Jubilee dragged it to the front of the barn, managing to tip it upright and prop it against the loft's edge with less trouble than she anticipated. Gave it a little shake to test its stability, lifted a foot to begin her climb.

“I wouldn’t do that, darlin’,” came a rumble from the shadows.

She whirled with a little squeak, eyes searching for the source of that voice. Where, where...?

A rustle of straw drew her to a nearby stall. Wolverine sat at the very back on a bale, leaning comfortably against the manger behind him, a half-empty bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand. Bits of hay clung to his rumpled clothes, his hair. 

“Wolvie, oh Wolvie!” she cried, running to him, throwing her arms around him. “I’ve been looking for you! Like, everywhere!”

“Hey, kid. Sorry 'bout that," he replied, his voice rough. He scrubbed at his face, his eyes.

"What're you doing out here?" she said.

"Snoozin’. Sippin’. Gettin' reacquainted with my buddy Jimmy Beam." He gestured with the bottle.

She inspected his hands, biting her lip at the sight of pink, ragged-edged, tender-looking scars. The memory of the wounds he’d suffered nailed to that horrible cross in the Australian Outback made her stomach do a slow flip. She was still amazed that he'd survived that ordeal, much less retained the use of his hands. But he had. She was afraid there were other injuries, invisible wounds, to his mind, his soul. Was his healing factor working on those, too? She'd asked herself that question many times, and still didn't have an answer.

"They look the same," she said, frowning. "They haven't changed one bit."

“Got a ways t’ go,” he agreed, lifting the bottle, taking a long swig. "Goddamn Reavers." As he wiped the moisture from his scowling lips his gaze slid right, to the darker depths of the barn. He cocked his head and growled, “I heard ya, fer Chrissakes. You don’t have t’ keep harpin’ on it.”

Jubilee cringed. Cripes, he was doing it again, talking to thin air, and it was just too weird. 

“There’s nobody here but you an’ me, Wolvie," she said. "You know that, don’cha? Who're you talking to?"

“Carol, an’ Nick,” he rumbled, casting her a look that said she was the crazy one. "I told ya before."

“Well... you’re like still weirding me out. I mean this is so, just so...” Vaguely she waved a hand, watching him take another draught from his bottle. “You aren't drunk, are you?” 

“Not yet. Workin' on it.”

“You really shouldn’t drink, y’ know. It’s so not good for you.”

“Do tell.”

“Why do you want to get drunk, anyway, Wolvie? I mean what's the point?”

“'Point is normally it's pretty much impossible. With my healin’ factor not up to snuff, I ain’t gonna waste the opportunity.” He took another swig, belched, wiped his lips. “So what're you doin’ here, girl?”

“Looking for you, like I said.” 

“Suppose I should tell ya, darlin'. I can smell a lie.”

“But-- I’m not lying, I was looking for you! I’ve been looking all over the place!”

“Maybe so. But you came in here for a different reason.”

Jubilee scuffed her foot against the straw-strewn ground, scowling. Smell a lie? Sheesh! What an inconvenient talent. Although obviously a very useful one. 

“Give her some time, she’ll come around,” Wolvie said to his phantoms.

“Aw geez, Wolvie, can't you please stop that? It’s just too creepy! There’s no one there already! Alright, you want to know what I was doing? I was hiding! I was tryin' to find a place to hide, okay? Are you happy now?” She whirled, stalked to the opposite stalls, came back. Kicked hard at a pile of moldering straw, obliterating it.

“Don't ya like it here, darlin’?” he said, his voice soft, compassionate. "Tell me what all's botherin' you."

Jubilee turned away again, blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes. How weak, how totally dweeby and stupid! Weeping like a little baby. But she couldn’t help it... just about every time Wolvie showed her he was concerned about her, interested in her welfare and her life, she kinda came a little undone. It had been so long since she’d had anyone to confide in, or anyone that cared how she felt, what she was going through. It had almost become habit, to swallow her emotions, pretend it didn’t matter, that nothing mattered, not the pain, not the loneliness, not the loss... She looked at Wolverine. His eyes glittered back in the lowering light. 

"Well first of all, you coulda told me you were gonna disappear! I had no idea where you were. I wanted to see you--"

"Wasn't thinkin' clear, when we got back. I'm sorry--"

"Well-- and nobody seemed to know where you'd gone off to. They just kept saying, Oh, he's holed up somewhere, he'll show up eventually, or, Oh, don't worry, he'll be around when he's ready. And then everybody’s runnin' around here all upset and talking about how are they ever gonna find the missing X Men, and how everything's so terrible and how the Professor's still missing, and he's the head honcho, right? Well, that’s--I mean what if--It all just feels so desperate and angry and wrong! It-- it doesn't feel, y' know... safe..."

"So you went lookin' for a hidey-hole, like ya had in the Outback. I understand that, kid. Listen, I know everything's in a damn uproar 'round here right now. But this is the sort o' thing the X Men handle all the time. It'll all come together, work itself out. You don't have t' worry. You are safe here, Jubes."

She went to him, he moved aside and she sat beside him on his bale of hay. "When you're with me, I can believe that," she said. "But promise me something, please? If you have to go away or anything, can ya let me know like way in advance, or--or--"

"I ain't gonna be leavin' you behind, if I can help it. You an' me, we're partners."

"Right! We are, absolutely and totally! You're my side-kick."

He laughed. "Damn straight." 

“Um, but Wolvie? Can I ask you something? I've been thinkin'. I mean, well... yeah. Like you said. I'm a kid. Everybody tells me that. Constantly. You know, as in, you're just a kid so you can't do this, you're just a kid so you can't do that. So I wanna know, how come you aren't tellin’ me that, too? Why are you different?"

He was studying her. "You can do whatever you set your mind to, Jubilee. You got heart. Courage. You more than proved your mettle by what you’ve done. Rescuin’ me, helpin' me take down the Reavers. Survivin' on your own, too." He took a cigar from his pocket, considered it, put it back. "You got it, kid. No doubt about it."

"What d'you mean? What have I got?"

"The right stuff. For makin' the cut. Being an X Man. Course, I pretty much knew that soon as I met you. The way you handled yourself in Hong Kong and Madripoor proved my hunch right."

"But I... how can you say that when I blew up Rose's bar? There was practically nothin' left of it, just a big pile of busted-up wood! Geez, Wolvie..."

"Yeah, well. You just need a little fine-tunin', that's all. Little experience. Your instincts were right on. That's what counts the most."

Jubilee's hands slipped around Wolvie's arm. She scooted a bit closer to him. His praise, his confidence in her, made her heart feel as if it was about to burst right out of her chest with pride and happiness. And most of all, gratitude. He believed in her! And he wasn't going to leave her. 

Wolvie took a pull at his bottle, emptying it. "Dead soldier," he murmured, reaching behind and taking another from the manger, twisting it open.

Abruptly he snarled, jerking the bottle away from his mouth. "I aim to drain it, Fury, just like the first one, an' if you got some objection t' that you can take a fuckin' hike, 'cause I ain't listenin'."

"Yeah, you stupid, freakin’, pain in the bee-hind ghost!" Jubilee yelled, rising a little from her seat. "Take a hike! Stop botherin' Wolvie! You just get outta here like right now!" Indignant, protective, without thinking she flung out her hands, throwing a few angry pafs at Wolvie's apparition. Or in the direction Wolvie was glaring, anyway. 

"Tell 'im, kiddo," Wolvie chuckled. "You show 'em."

She held her breath, fingers to her lips, watching her fireworks roil through the air and hit the barn wall, making the old boards shudder for a tense moment. The pafs were flashy but thankfully not powerful enough to break anything or set the tired old barn to tumbling down around them. She gave herself a little mental shake, releasing her breath in a slow whoosh. That was just way, way too close, she had to remember to think before letting loose. 

Wolvie was watching her. She sat back down, arms folded across her knees, chin resting on her wrists. No worries! She'd done alright with that thoughtless paf. No damage. It was a-okay. 

“I can be one heck of a bad-ass when I need to be,” she smiled at Wolvie. 

“I've noticed. One of the things I like about ya."

“You mean besides my amazing wit, and my awesome fashion sense?" She swept out a hand in a grand gesture that took in her pink top, her denim shorts, and gave him a big, exaggerated grin. 

“Now somebody’s gettin’ real full o’ themselves.”

“I’m happy, Wolvie. You’ve made me happy. You always do. It’s in your nature, isn’t it?”

“You got me mixed up with some other guy. Me an’ happy don’t usually pal around together much. Case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, don’t get all grumpy, now. You don’t see yourself like I do." 

"Truer words, kid." He chuckled. "Ol' Fury really took off, heh, sure enough. Did you see him go?"

"Um, sure. I sure did." That was another stinky lie. But he didn't call her on it, this time. "What about Carol, Wolvie? Is she still hangin' around?"

"Nope. Don't know where she went off to."

"Good! I mean, uh, I bet she ran after Nick, right?"

Wolvie narrowed his eyes at her, took a slow swallow. 

Oh-kay. What was needed here was a totally different subject. 

"Hey, why’d you stop me from going up to the loft? I really wanna look around up there.”

He grunted. “Ladder’s rotted out, some o’ the rungs. Hasn't been safe to use for years. Woulda landed flat on yer behind if you tried to use it. In fact...” He propped his bottle against the hay bale, got to his feet, touching the wall briefly for balance. “Well goddamn, I’m actually gettin’ hammered,” he murmured. His claws zinged from his hands as he walked and with a few easy swipes, he cut the ladder in half from side to side, and then the two falling halves into quarters, before they hit the floor.

“Show-off,” Jubilee said as he returned. 

“Shoulda done that a long time ago.” 

“Hey Wolvie, what’s with all this hay, anyway? Is this place used, or what? Most of the bales in here look brand new.” She picked up a handful from the floor of the stall, sniffed it. “Mmm. It smells like sun and rain and summertime. It smells good enough to eat!”

“Don’t it, though? Nothin’ like it. You’re right, this is overflow, what-all the big barn can’t hold.”

"Why are some bales yellow and some green?"

"Yellow is straw, for bedding. Hay is green. For eatin'."

“How did the bales get all the way up there with the ladder all rotted out?”

Wolvie chuckled. “You ever see Pete out there in Australia?"

She gave him a blank look.

"You'd remember him. Goes by Colossus. Metal skin?”

Pete... oh, yes. She did remember him. She remembered peeking from a tiny vent in the Reaver's complex, peering out at a group of people in the distance, agitated people, struggling people... Before she'd ducked away one of them had caught her attention because he'd suddenly turned into metal and the merciless sun was reflecting off him, flashing in all directions.

"Man alive, I remember him. He's gigantic. When I saw him turn into adamantium I thought he looked like some sort of robot. He's kinda creepy, Wolvie."

“Steel, it's steel skin he's got, darlin'. And Pete’s a good guy, good friend. A gentle soul. Strong as all hell, loyal, he’d do anything for ya. You'll like him. Anyway. He an’ I usually load the bales in here. We both like the work, him especially. He’s a farm boy, grew up on his family’s spread back in Russia. With him around you don't need a ladder."

“So-- you're saying you throw the hay up there? Cool! I bet you guys get all competitive, see who can toss the most bales the fastest, am I right?” 

“Not exactly. He tosses 'em up to me, and I stack 'em.”

“That doesn't sound like very much fun, geez.”

“It’s fun. We have a good time.” He tipped his bottle with an extra little flourish. 

“So, no one else ever comes out here, to this barn?”

“Can’t say it never happens, but it’s rare.”

“You... you don’t mind, do you, Wolvie?” She turned to him anxiously. “That I found your special place?”

“No, not at all. Don’t worry 'bout that. It ain’t an issue.”

She sighed, relieved, and squinted up at the bales beckoning above. Their bright gold and green colors were muted now. The light was weakening as the sun met the horizon.

“How can I get up there? What d’you do, just climb up? I don't think I can do that.” She went to one of the heavy support beams, ran her hand over it, considering. There were no claw marks on its rough surface. 

“Pete usually throws me,” Wolvie said, startling her.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? He throws you? Okay now, that is cool! Can you do that, Wolvie? Would you try throwing--”

“Not gonna happen, girl. Even if I could, I ain’t about to throw you into the loft. Flamin’ hell...”

“Aw, man.” She kicked at the straw again. What a party-poop.

“Hold on. Got an idea.” Before slipping out the door he glanced back at her. "Keep an eye out. This place starts shakin', you get the hell out, pronto." 

“What?”

He left the barn. Was he joking? A bit apprehensive, Jubilee shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the innocent-looking amber liquid inside Wolvie's bottle. It looked like tea. She picked it up, sniffed at the opening and nearly gagged. Coughing, she set it back down, hard. How the heck could Wolvie drink this stuff? Dead soldier indeed! It sure stunk like something dead. She could hardly imagine the taste. Could it possibly be as foul as the smell? 

From outside came the sound of heavy blows, the sound of crumbling and breaking. Things thudding to the ground. A pause, and then up in the loft she heard wood splintering, and nails tearing from old boards with horrible rusty shrieks. Wolvie emerged above, from behind the loft’s bales. Before she could protest he jumped down from the high mow, landing with a little 'oof'.

“C’mon,” he said. She went with him outside, around to the silo. He'd opened the small, rust-covered door in its wall, and she followed him as he climbed through, right into the old tower. The floor inside was dirt, littered with rocks, chunks of cement and a few stunted ferns, but mostly it was covered with some sort of...

“Guano,” Wolvie said. “Bat crap. This is their roost. Hear 'em? They’re gettin’ ready to leave for the night.” 

There were rustlings coming from the darkness far above, a restless, leathery flapping, even the occasional faint, high-pitched squeak. 

He drew her attention to metal rungs running up the inside of the silo.

“Go on up,” he said.

“Up into the bats? Wolvie, I really don’t want to go sticking my face into a bunch of smelly gross-”

“Not that far, ya lunk-head. Up to that opening. See? Go through it, the loft’s right there. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Oh! That’s what you were doing!” She began to climb. There was a small gap between the barn and the silo but it was nothing to step over it and into the loft. 

Wolvie came through behind her. "Look," he said, his hand touching her shoulder, nudging her to face the cavernous open barn to their right. Her eyes strained to see the floor but by now it was just a mass of murky shadows.

“No. There,” he murmured, his hand alongside her cheek, pointing. She could make out nothing until finally her eye caught movement. Something sat in the rafters, something pale. A white, heart-shaped face adorned with fierce dark eyes turned their way.

An owl! She caught Wolvie’s hand, held it as they watched the bird ruffle its feathers and launch silently away, sailing past them, out the window of the mow.

“Oh Wolvie, that was so amazing! It was so calm! Is it tame? Why didn’t it fly away when you were crashing around up here?”

“She ain't tame, no. Reckon she’s used to me. Knows I ain’t no threat. ”

“Did she leave because of me, then?”

“Nah, don’t think so, not really. It’s dusk, time she usually goes off huntin’. She’ll get used to you quick enough."

Wolvie went to a corner, returning with a box that clinked. A box containing six unopened bottles of whiskey. “Got to refill my stash,” he said with a grin, seizing two and jumping from the ledge. She heard a stumble after the thump of his landing and yelled down to him, “Hey! Guess who’s gonna end up on their ass now? You’re too sloshed to go jumping around like that Wolvie!”

His rumbly laugh drifted up to her. 

The light was fading. Jubilee went to work, first making one long row of yellow straw bales along the edge of the mow so she wouldn’t step off by accident in the dark. Most of the remaining bales she arranged in the far corner where the liquor box had been, alternating green bales with gold, creating a cozy, sweet-smelling little den, thickly bedded, where she could be away from all eyes. Relax, regroup. Be alone.

Wolvie suddenly reappeared, climbing up the heavy support beam, bottle protruding from a back pocket. 

"Good idea," he said as he stepped over the bales along the edge. He peeked into her little straw room. "Real nice job."

"Thanks! Hey, can I keep your booze box in here? I could use it as a little table. Okay?"

He stood blinking with lowered brows, and didn't answer. Turning something over in his mind, if she was reading the signs correctly, and she was certain she was. He sat down in the loft's window, legs dangling. She heard his heels thumping the wood. 

"You done with your work there?" he called to her. "C'mere, have a seat. This is one o’ the best places on the grounds to watch the sun set.”

Jubilee joined him, first leaning carefully out to peer down the flower-covered wall. Watched him take the bottle from his pocket, twist it open. She sat, wrinkling her nose. 

“That stuff stinks,” she said. 

“Nectar of the gods, darlin'."

“Oh geez, gimme a break! It’s booze. It messes up your head.”

“Yup.”

“But why do you--” she stopped at his level look. “Oh, all right. I’ll shut up about it.”

“ 'ppreciate that.”

They fell silent, their usual, easy, comfortable silence, and watched the sun disappear beneath the edge of the earth. The remaining light bled quickly from the sky, and when it was nearly fully dark, Wolvie spoke.

"I want you to know this, Jubes. I want you to carry this in your heart, and look to it, if you should ever feel lonely again. Because you know that there's gonna be times I have to go off on my own, right? It can't be helped. So try to remember this, darlin', during those times. You're my lifeline. Without you, I wouldn't be here. Without you I wouldn’t be goin’ on. You saved my life. We got a special bond. I won't ever forget it."

"Aw, Wolvie," she sighed, her hands seeking his strong arm once again. Her face felt warm, flushed. Yes, he would have to go away at times. She knew that. But... it would be okay. She could handle it. After his wonderful words. After all this. She leaned against him. 

Fireflies had begun their evening dance, leaving little flash-trails of lemon-lime neon in the darkness. 

"What d'ya think about doin' one o' your light shows for me, Jubes? You up for it?"

A fireworks display for Wolvie? She hesitated, biting her lip. That'd be so majorly cool. But it meant using lots of power. Nearly on the scale of... Rose's bar. She'd totaled Rose's bar. The image in her mind of the shattered, ruined building became in an instant this wonderful old barn, destroyed in the same way, with the same sad results.

But geez, she'd put light shows on in the mall for months with no problem at all, and had paffed plenty during the past weeks with Wolvie in Hong Kong, Madripoor, and Genosha, too. She’d made certain to keep her cool, those times, and no more uncontrolled explosions had occurred. This apprehension didn't make sense. What was going on? She had to get a grip on this! 

She glanced uncertainly at Wolvie. "Up t' you," he said. "Your decision, darlin'. I ain't one to judge you for your worries.” He squinted into the distance, scratching at a sideburn. "Y’know, Jubes, I've been through it myself. I’ve seen how somethin' small, somethin' that's just a nigglin' little fear, can take on a whole new life, you don't tackle it right away. Longer you wait, the bigger it grows, 'til you feel like you can never put it right."

"You, Wolvie? Afraid? I thought you aren't afraid of anything."

"Everybody gets scared now an' then. Me included. But I try not to let it get a-hold o' me. Found the best thing is to just bull my way right through. Glare it down, tell it who the hell's boss." He took a swig, shrugged. "But that's my way. You got to figure out your own. Like I said, Jubes. I ain't gonna judge you, whatever you decide."

He was so strong, always so sure of himself. Wolverine, afraid? Who knew! Nobody ever suspected such a thing, she was sure! 

Jubilee wanted to be like that. She looked at him, sitting so calmly, gazing out at the night. He gave her a slow, easy smile and a nod. She wanted him to be proud of her. She was no weak, whining little child, afraid of the boogeyman, afraid of living! She was Jubilation!

Her spine straightened, she turned to face the darkness. Closed her eyes briefly, concentrating, starting off slowly, carefully keeping the colorful bursts well away from the barn. As she worked she gained confidence, and quickly built up to a nice, showy display of spinning, whirling orbs that flashed and popped, lighting the woods and field with wave after wave of rainbow colors. When she finished the show with a sparkling cascade of spiraling red and blue streamers, Wolvie told her it was better than any Fourth of July display he'd ever seen.

"Ta hen piao liang, yanhuo hai," he said with a smile.

"Huh? What was that?"

"Aw, hell, you mean you don't know any Chinese?"

"Hey, I speak American. I don't know any of that foreign lingo. What'd you say?"

"I said, that was beautiful, fireworks girl."

She looked up at him. "Is that what I am? A fireworks girl?"

"You’re the fireworks girl. That, an’ so much more, darlin'." 

He tipped his bottle, drank deeply. "By the way. I know you were sniffin' at this. Good thing you didn't take a swig.”

“You don’t ever have to worry about that happening. That stuff is gross. As in all night long, major puke-fest gross.”

“Good. You just keep thinkin’ that.”

“Um, could you possibly be saying that because... liquor isn’t good for you?” She laughed, gave him a little jab in the ribs.

“It ain’t good for kids, an’ you still classify as one.”

"I am not a kid. I’m fourteen! Soon to be fifteen! And then I’ll be sixteen and that’s nearly eighteen which is adult!”

“Uh-huh. Like I said. So hands off the liquor, or else.”

“Don’t worry, geez!"

"An' to answer your question from before. You can keep that liquor box in your little room if you want."

"You were afraid I was gonna sit in there and drink up all your booze of the gods, weren’t you?"

"No. 'Cause you're a responsible kid, and have good sense. And anyway, this stuff, ol' J and B? It's got too much kick for ladies. This here's a man's drink."

"I see. So it's only manly-men that can handle that stuff, huh. Takes a man to drink pure nastiness and think it's yummy. Think it's, y' know...nectar."

"You got no palette, girl. All you can taste is that damn sugar you're always suckin' down."

Jubilee laughed. "You're so funny Wolvie, when you start gettin' into that lame-o, macho thing you do... and you do it all the time, y' know."

"Hell I do. Y' know girl, it ain't the smell o' the booze you're pickin' up so much as them big ol' lies you keep tellin'."

"Ohh, is that right? Well tell me, then. What does one o' them big ol' lies smell like? Is it anything like the reek coming out of that bottle?"

"Nah. More like a certain somebody that could use a bath."

"What-- hey now, wait just a darn minute! Are you saying--"

Wolvie chuckled. "Relax. I'm just messin' with ya."

He was right, though. She was sweaty and dirty from her long day of walking, investigating. But she sure didn't stink. It was just his extra-sensitive nose. There was no hiding a scent from Wolvie. 

He nudged her out of her thoughts. “You smell fine, Jubes. Like summer air. Like... like happiness, pure and clean.”

There it was again. A few words from Wolvie and she was all warm and glowy inside.

He was her best friend. 

"Oh, Wolvie... " Her head found his shoulder. 

Their voices blended into the night, rising and falling, interlaced with long periods of silence, keeping time with the songs of the crickets, the pulse of the land. The slow, steady beat of life going on all around them. 

She was half-dozing when he stirred, rousing her. 

"It's gettin' late, darlin'," he murmured. "I'm gonna head back to the mansion."

"What time is it?"

"Think it's around eleven. I should get goin', give you some o' that alone time you were lookin' for."

"Well... I..."

He nodded, turning back. "Somethin' else, Jubes. You've gotten used to answerin' t' nobody but yourself these past months, but things're different, now. You got people that care about you, an' need to know where y' are."

"Oh. I guess you're right. I guess I shouldn't have been gone so long, huh?"

"It's okay. You're just gettin' used to bein’ social again. Believe me, I know how that is. I'll let 'em know you're fine."

"But-- they don't need to know exactly where I am, do they?"

"Nope. That's your secret, to tell or keep." He slid from the window, swallowed in an instant by the night. Soft thump of his landing. His voice drifted up to her. "Listen for the owl. You'll hear her claws grabbin', scratchin' at the beam. She usually comes back around four."

There was a pause. He was moving away, she could hear the soft swish of the tall grass brushing against his legs.

"Good night, Wolvie," she called softly.

"Night, Jubes."

She was alone, but he was still with her. His caring. His comfort. His strength and wisdom and tolerance. Her hands found her chest, briefly clutching there, holding all that was Wolvie close to her heart. She was full, overflowing. He made everything that was wrong, come right again. Put sense into her world, along with a peace she had not truly felt since her parents had been taken from her.

From out in the field, a tiny brightness flared. It was Wolvie, lighting that cigar of his. He had turned to face her, and she saw his face clearly in that brief flare of flame. Smiling, she tossed a small paf into the dark, watching it sputter to the ground. 

She picked up his empty bottle, carried it and the liquor box into her little den. Hours later when the owl returned she was awake, waiting, and when the scrabbly scratching of claws sounded against the high wooden beam, Jubilee laughed. But softly, so as not to startle her new friend.

She left the barn at dawn, winding her way through the tall, moisture-laden grass, her enormous shadow leading the way. 

She could see the mansion, just off to her right, nestled low against a backdrop of trees, morning sun glinting off its many tall windows. It didn't exactly look homey, it looked almost like a castle. But...that didn't matter, really. Anyplace could be home, it just had to feel that way. It had to feel safe. And this mansion, this school, was Wolvie's safe place. And if ever there was somebody she trusted, like with her entire being, it was Wolvie.

So she would give this place a try, make an effort to settle in, because Wolvie had brought her here, and this was his home. And he wanted to share it with her. 

A trembly kind of excitement was building from deep down, in the center of her stomach. The promise of security and hope. Forever happiness. Abruptly the front door of the place flew open and two kids emerged, rushed down the steps, and to her astonishment, sailed right into the air, zigging and zagging, bobbing over the lawn...moving not unlike like the fireflies of last night. But instead of flashing neon, the children left trails of laughter in their wake. 

Jubilee laughed too, her gaze lifting up, up to the very zenith of the blue, blue sky. She twirled, once, twice, three times, arms out and fingers spread, feeling the tickle of the long-stemmed grasses against her palms. She left the field, jogging across the clipped lawn, the long driveway, tossing a wave to the soaring children. Finally mounting the steps of the great flagstone porch. The front door was ajar, and as she stood watching, it slowly, magically swung wide. 

The mansion was welcoming her. Her new life was waiting. 

She stepped through the door.


End file.
